


Ribbon of Sunlight

by kell_be_belle



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo, Tooth Rotting Fluff, duvet day, no beta we die like renfri, spending the day in bed, yet another fic of geralt worshipping jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kell_be_belle/pseuds/kell_be_belle
Summary: While wintering in Kaer Morhen, Jaskier manages to convince Geralt to spend the day in bed. Much tenderness ensues.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 109
Collections: Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo





	Ribbon of Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, Geralt loves Jaskier and he should say it. Written for the [Sugar and Spice Witcher Bingo](https://sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo.tumblr.com/) Event as a fill for the prompt "Duvet Day/Spending the day in bed". Find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/kell-be-belle) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kell_be_belle)

Geralt’s lashes fluttered against his cheeks, a contented hum worming its way up from his throat and out between his parted lips. He was beginning to rouse, but sleep still held him in its tenuous grasp, leaving him drifting aimlessly in the ether between. He gradually becomes aware of the warmth nestled beside him; of the weight spread across the expanse of his chest. The sensation of it all teeters precariously between just enough and too much. He cannot yet be bothered enough to decide on which direction it leans. 

Geralt had drawn the curtains last night, but apparently not with enough care. They remained parted just enough that a slim ribbon of sunlight stretches across his bed and splits him in twain. It glows red and molten behind his eyelids. Sleep finally relinquishes its hold, content to release Geralt to the day until the night returned once again. He rises to the surface of his consciousness like emerging from depths of a pond. The world swims before him as he opens his eyes, pupils contracting against the glimmer of the sun. For a moment, he feels disoriented by the juxtaposition of the dawning day and the lingering night. Panic flares like a spark in his chest in danger of catching alight. 

And then he is brought back, grounded by the weight over his chest. 

Jaskier’s deep, heated breaths snuffle into the hollow of Geralt’s collarbone. His auburn lashes quiver against Geralt’s skin with all the substance of butterfly wings. He has slotted himself into Geralt’s side, undoubtedly huddling into his peternatual heat in the cold of the tower room Geralt calls his own. Jaskier has an arm flung carelessly across his chest; has one leg bent up and hooked over the witcher’s thigh. Jaskier sleeps with all the banality of a child and it makes Geralt’s heart swell. 

Sleep still seemed to hold Jaskier firm and Geralt takes the opportunity to bask in the moment of stillness. He presses his nose into the crown of Jaskier’s mousy head. Jaskier smells of the almond oil he had rubbed into his hands the night before. Just as Geralt oiled his sword, Jaskier treated his hands with oils and scrubs and massage. They were the tools of his trade, afterall. Geralt even helped from time to time, carefully stretching his lithe fingers and kneading his palms. He had done so that night while the two of them lay basking in the tender afterglow of their love making. Geralt reached up and took Jaskier’s hand within his own. He pressed his nose into the curve of his palm and a kiss to the place where Jaskier’s pulse fluttered under the thin skin of his wrist. 

Jaskier began to stir then, mewling softly as he nuzzled deeper into the pit of Geralt’s clavicle. Geralt continued to rouse him with kisses. He kissed Jaskier’s fingertips and knuckles, each fold of his palm and the tendons of his wrist. Jaskier was waking in earnest now. The shape of his smile pressed against Geralt’s skin. “Oh…” He hummed in bliss. “I must say, this is probably amongst my most pleasant awakenings.” His voice was husky with sleep and it made Geralt chuckle. “You do spoil me so, dear heart. I am afraid I shall not wake again if it is not to this kind of tenderness.” 

“Then I shall tell the bandits that next invade our camp to hold off on robbing us so that I can kiss you awake.” Geralt quipped, his smile wry. 

Jaskier retaliated with a little nip to Geralt’s collar and it made a spike of pleasure jolt down his spine. “Now, now, don’t be a brat.” Jaskier breathed deeply, his chest expanding with the volume of his robust lungs. He released it in a hum of random melody. “What time is it? I feel as though I’ve been asleep for at least a decade.” 

Geralt’s eyes flickered to light spilling between the curtains. “Judging from the angle, it is well past dawn. Vesemir will have my head for missing morning training.” 

“I don’t think he should mind too much.” Jaskier replied. His fingers had started drumming in an aimless rhythm against Geralt’s chest. Ever a man in motion. Even in sleep Jaskier never truly settled, but as he awakened further Geralt could feel his energy beginning to thrum just under the surface of his skin. 

Geralt cocked a brow, “Have you met Vesemir? I once forgot to bring my empty dinner plate into the kitchen and he made me run laps around the keep.” 

Jaskier snorted a laugh, “Yeah, alright, I suppose the old wolf may have punishment in store for you, but this is worth it, right?” Geralt traced his fingers over Jaskier’s back, circled around the knob of each vertebrae and the sharp cut of his shoulder blade. He shivered pleasantly in Geralt’s arms. Vesemir could punish Geralt to repair the entire Eastern curtain wall with nothing, but an ice pick and still he would choose to lay here in this morning bliss. 

“Yes.” He hummed, breathing in the bittersweet scent of his love. Savoring the press of his supple skin against the jagged edges of his many scars. “Worth it.” 

Jaskier turned his head and rested his chin upon Geralt’s chest, looking up at him beneath the curve of his lashes. They shone translucent and honeyed in the sunlight. Geralt is struck by the sight of him. How many mornings had they awoken side by side and still Geralt feels like every time he looks upon his love anew. The dimples in Jaskier’s cheek deepen, preceding the smile that soon spreads over his lips. 

Geralt’s life had been long. Geralt’s life had been hard. For decades life had been a yoke about his neck and he was only sloughing through it. The next town. The next contract. The next wound. The next glare. With Jaskier in his arms all of that melted away like frost beneath the first ray of spring sun. With that glow in his eyes and that smile on his lips all of it darkened into a dream, faded to an impression, but not a memory. With Jaskier, every day dawned as a gift and it was one Geralt felt blessed to receive.

There were not enough words in Geralt’s underused tongue that could ever articulate the way he felt about Jaskier, but fortunately there was no need for them. Where his words lacked there was still feeling. It swelled in the space between them, filled the breadth of their bed, the space of the room, the expanse of the keep. It reached as far as the shores of places they had never been and would likely never see. It could stretch across the latitude of the world itself and reach them once more here in this bed tucked into the shape of each other. 

They kissed languidly in the ribbon of sunlight that peeked between the curtains. 

Jaskier settled onto Geralt’s chest once more, breathing deeply, “You know, if you’re going to piss off Vesemir, you may as well go all out. I am feeling rather comfortable and very disinclined to move as I am sure you are, too. What say you? Shall we spend our day here?” 

Geralt chuckled, “We’ll have to leave eventually, Jaskier. You get cranky when you haven’t eaten.” Jaskier nipped his collar once more in retaliation. “Do that again and I’ll have to show you how to behave.” He growls against the shell of Jaskier’s ear, fingers tightening around the meat of his thigh. 

“Oh, you tempt me so, dear heart.” He laughs breathily, wrapping his leg tighter around Geralt’s hips. “I will heartily endure your punishment, but after we have broken our fast.” Jaskier suddenly peels back the quilt and Geralt nearly whines at the loss of his weight and warmth. The swift footed shuffle the fully nude Jaskier makes to the door is quite comical and Geralt snorts at the sight of him. Jaskier waves him off as he retrieves a basket that is sitting on the floor just inside the threshold. He continues his shuffle back to the bed and dives back under the covers. Geralt folds them quickly around him before the chill of the air can sink in. 

Triumphantly, Jaskier cradles the basket in his lap, pulling up the thatched lid and presenting the contents to Geralt. It is stuffed full of food. Hard cheese and cured links of sausage. A thick loaf of black bread and small pots of honey, jam, and butter. Dried apricots and dates and two bottles of mead. Geralt turns to Jaskier with his brow arched and the bard smiles blithely; batting his honeyed lashes innocently. Geralt rolls his eyes, but fishes out a date and pops it whole into his mouth. Jaskier beams and does the same. 

The two of them settle once more into the shape of each other. They break fast with hushed laughter and shared bites and tender kisses. It is as splendid and incandescent as the ribbon of sunlight that peeks between the curtains and wraps them together.


End file.
